


A Helping Hand

by DandelionLass



Series: Desperate [2]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 14:03:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4103599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DandelionLass/pseuds/DandelionLass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new neighbor helps Peeta through a sticky summer before college.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to muttpeeta & peetasbunmyoven for concocting The Peeta Mellark Mastrubation Series. This story was written for that series over on Tumblr. Please let me know what y'all think!

A Helping Hand

I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't be hiding out in my dark room waiting on my neighbor to change for bed. I can just barely see through the sheer drapes. I can only discern the color of her nightgowns and her silhouette, but even that is enough to get me off some nights.

We met when she moved in at the beginning of the summer. I saw her first running out of the house next door. I swear she was in slow motion as an electric guitar played that easily recognizable intro my head.

I believe in miracles. Where you from, you sexy thing? I believe in miracles. Since you came along, you sexy thing. 

The little daisy dukes and green fitted tank top she wore hugged her body perfectly. Her ebony braid swung back and forth as she moved, hypnotizing me. The image of her was instantly branded into my mind.

I wanted to kiss down her exposed neck and the tops of breasts that peaked out from the scooped neck of her tank. I wanted to run my hand up the back of her lean thighs and cup her rounded ass underneath the cut-off denim. I wanted to wrap her braid around my hand then bend her over the back of that truck and fuck her until she came panting my name.

I had to meet her. 

But first, I needed shower. 

I was hard as steel.

I didn't even attempt to calm myself down when I stepped into the steamy stall. I was leaving for College Station in August anyway. What harm could daydreaming about the new girl next door really do? Not knowing her name didn't seem to matter.

The warm stream pummeled my back as I began to stroke my aching cock slowly from base to tip. I imagined us in her new house, the boxes piled high as I kissed down her body and lifted her fitted tank to reveal more of her sun kissed, olive skin to my lips, teeth, and tongue. The tiny taste only making me want to devour her more. I visualized inching down her now offending shorts and concluding nothing was beneath them. I groaned at the thought. 'Did she trim? Was she bare?' I wondered. I really didn't give a fuck either way. When I pictured myself kneeling before her glistening mound of cropped dark curls and taking the first tentative swipe of her arousal with my tongue, my hips started to buck with my ministrations, forcefully hitting my fisted hand as I envisioned her musk and earthy tang. I continued my motions, both physical and mental, and my grunts and moans reciprocated the ones she made in my head, filling the small bathroom around me. The pace of my throttling reached top speed with the thought of her whimpering my name as she came, bracing herself on my shoulders. 

It didn't take me long to finish after that image, spraying the evidence of my completion on the tiled wall and rinsing it inconspicuously down the drain. 

Once sated, and without the possible embarrassment of greeting her with an erection, I went outside towards her house. 

"Welcome to the neighborhood." I called, waving as I approached her exiting the front door. "I'm Peeta. I live next door." I continue, thumbing to the house behind me and sporting my best panty dropping smile. 

"Katniss. Katniss Hawthorne." she returned, extending her petite hand. 'Katniss' I said in my head a few times, testing it out. 'That's perfection.' I was already imagining myself moaning her name, hissing the last syllable. 

"Can I help you with these boxes?" I offered, jerking myself about of my fantasy lest I encounter my earlier dick dilemma again. 

"Really?" She asked, her eyebrows raised in scepticism. 

"Yeah. Sure." I confirmed. 

"Okay." She said and nodded her consent.

Upon my first load into the house, I discovered she was married. My cocky smile fell at the realization. Her husband, Gale, had been getting their two boys situated to play in the back yard. Looking at her, I couldn't believe she had two kids. They looked like they could be twins. I was immediately regretful of all the lustful thoughts I had been having about her moments earlier. 

The next Saturday, while I was finishing up mowing my parents' front yard, she came outside in those damn shorts again. It was a typical Texas summer afternoon - clear skies and hotter than Hades. I heard her rummaging and moving things around in her garage even over the roar of the mower. When I was done with my work a few minutes later I headed her way. I found her perched on the garage floor scowling and tinkering with their lawn mower. Partial hand prints mottled that day's gray tank top and a stripe of grease covered half of her forehead. It took all my willpower to keep from wiping it off with my thumb. 'Would her skin there be as soft as her hand was?' I thought to myself. 

"Mrs. Hawthorne, would you like me to take a look at that for you?" I suggested, using her married name in an attempt to remind myself of her unavailability and quell the mutiny in my lower half that threatened to betray me. 

She startled at my words but looked up with her captivating pewter eyes and a smile. I went on. 

"I've had to dabble and tweak ours before. They can be temperamental in this weather sometimes." 

She looked down at her watch debating. 

"No, that's alright." She declined. "I've been out here too long as it is. I thought I could knock out the front yard while the boys were napping, but my time is just about up. I'll just have Gale look at it whenever he gets home. 

'Yeah, where was her husband? Why was she having do this mess?' I internally asked myself. 

As if she read my mind, Katniss continued. 

"He usually does the yard work anyway, but with the move and starting his new job at the firm, his schedule has been jam packed and unpredictable. I had no idea there was something wrong with this thing." She elaborated, kicking the lawn mower's wheel.

"I just took ours for a test drive, so let me go ahead and mow your yard while it's still in working order?" I offered, in hopes of working off my guilt from fantasizing about her in the shower last week.

"What? Are you sure? That would be a huge help to me." She admitted. 

"It's no problem, ma'am. I'm happy to be of service, really!" I assured her.

"Well then, at least let me pay you. I can't stand owing people. What's the going rate these days?" 

"That's really unnecessary. But, if it makes your feel better, how about $10 bucks?" I arbitrarily threw out the first number that came to mind. 

"Perfect! Right in my price range." She smiled at me and my heart tripped. 'This is not good.'

Thankfully we were interrupted then by one of her sons coming to the screen door crying. 

I then went back to work while she returned inside. 

Katniss and her sons, Archer and Hunter, came out with a cool glass of iced tea and a ten dollar bill when I was done. The chilly liquid was heavenly following my afternoon of exertion. 

That night when my hand ventured under the elastic band of my boxers, I tried to conjure up anyone but Katniss. I pictured my ex girlfriend, Clove, that I had broken up with before graduation, and Glimmer, the bustiest blonde cheerleader on the squad. But, each time the woman behind my eyes transformed into my neighbor with the long dark braid and piercing pewter eyes. It took no time at all to reach my release. The raspy drawl of her voice was in my ear the entire time, pleading for me to take her and gasping my name. I exhaled hers as I came on my bare stomach.

The next weeks, I resolved to look for any opportunity to help Katniss as a meager penance for my nightly indulgence.

I carried her groceries into the house one evening. Late one afternoon, following my work at the bakery, I moved furniture for her. Two Friday's later, we constructed a wooden swing set in the backyard for her boys. By the third Saturday, Gale had still not been home before dark and I then arranged to take over her mowing indefinitely. The more time I spent with her the more she invaded my thoughts and I would unconsciously begin to pleasure myself imagining her. Every week I would find more things to do for her while Gale was absent and the cycle continued. 

About six weeks after the Hawthorns moved in, I discovered that the window of their master bedroom faced my own. I had come home from a late movie with Finn and I didn't bother with my light as I striped and fell into bed. When I looked over I saw the light on across the gap. I thought nothing of it until she passed the sheer drapes in nothing but a black cotton bra. As if that wasn't enough in and of itself, when the window went dark, moments later her first sigh reached my honed ears. Then a faint guttural moan drifted into my room, followed by her hardly audible gasps.

'Was she doing what I suspected? Is this what I was missing each night when I went to bed early to make my morning shifts and the bakery? Is this real, or not real?' I asked myself.

Her next needy mewl was all the confirmation I required and my head ran wild with visions of her pleasuring herself. I didn't hesitate to grip my throbbing member then. That night I gradually stroked myself to completion while straining to hear the other sounds she emitted in her passion. All the while, doing my best to stifle my grunts and huffs that threaten to escape and reveal my presence. 

This became my almost daily ritual, baring the few days she retired before me and the one night every other week when Gale would join her. Meanwhile, I continued offering her a helping hand whenever she had a need arise. I should have been disgusted with myself, but her soft sighs and moans were intoxicating and I was addicted. She never said "Gale" when she writhed beneath her own hand, and that made it all too easy for my desperate brain to transfigure myself into the giver of her desires. 

That is why I'm sitting here in the dark, like a creeper, on this sweltering night in August, waiting for her to end her day and retreat to bed. She enters then like every other night, passing by the open, but draped, windows. Light streams out, and her chosen nightware appears to be absolutely nothing. 

'Hello, Texas!' I celebrate, readying myself on my bed and awaiting the first sign of her building pleasure.

But no sound cuts through the silence. 

After five minutes I realize she must have fallen asleep with the light still on. 

Disappointed, I get up and ready myself for sleep as well. I remove my blue v-neck and undo my belt and jeans. The buckle hits the hardwood floor with a loud clatter and I kick them away to the corner. Naked, I slip under the cold sheets and turn over to face the window in hopes of a light breeze. They are a rare blessing in this heat. 

I peer across the gap again, and think I detect a slight moment.

I rub my eyes for clarification and I see her approaching the window. 

She pulls back the curtains and stands there in all her glory. Back lit by the room's light, she looks ethereal. Her loose hair glows and her dark nipples are tight in spite of the temperature. 

I'm immediately, painfully hard. 

I long to run my hands through her hair, knead the apple sized mounds, and then such them into my mouth. She stays there standing and it is as though she is staring straight through me. 

Leaving her frame, she turns off the light. 

Finally, I hear her breathy moans drift into the darkness and I join her with my own frantic groping and pulling. 

I come like never before when I hear the muted gasp of, "Peeta," escape her lips. After I recover and regain my bearings, I wonder if I actually heard her say my name, or if it was all my imagination in the height of my arousal? 

'Could she have really said my name as she climaxed? Has she known I've been watching her this whole time, all these weeks?'

I can't tell mutated dream from reality. It's as if I've been hijacked by the very thought of her. 

There is no way I'll be able to stop the shiny visions of Katniss from consuming my brain now. 

The last week of August can't come soon enough.


End file.
